


Grand Gesture #IneffableValentines2020 prompt 13

by GayDemonicDisaster (scrapheapchallenge)



Series: Ineffable Valentines 2020 [13]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: #ineffableValentines2020, 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Caring Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley, Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Valentines, ineffable valentines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-18 22:49:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22501099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrapheapchallenge/pseuds/GayDemonicDisaster
Summary: Crowley has been keeping a secret from Aziraphale for some time, when circumstances force it out into the open, and Crowley has a choice to make.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Ineffable Valentines 2020 [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618783
Comments: 47
Kudos: 160
Collections: Ineffable Valentines 2020





	Grand Gesture #IneffableValentines2020 prompt 13

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miele_Petite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miele_Petite/gifts).



Kensington, London, 1799.

Aziraphale sat in the drawing room of Crowley’s palatial town house in Kensington, a stone’s throw from Hyde Park. He’d had many residences over the years, upgrading every now and then to a more impressive abode, suitable to a gent of his apparent standing. They were sipping tea. “Crowley…” he began, “do you recall in the Bastille a few years ago you asked me about my plans to open a bookshop?” Crowley nodded.

“Yes, but you got distracted by a mission to get yourself beheaded for the sake of a few fancy nibbles, I seem to remember.”

Aziraphale blushed at the reminder. “Well I’ve decided to make a go of it – my current home is simply too small to keep all the books I’ve accumulated thus far and it simply won’t do. I’ve been searching all over London for a suitable premises but can’t seem to find anywhere that suits me. They’re all too small, too old, leaky and damp, infested with vermin, in terrible areas, with terrible neighbours or with extortionate rent. I quite wanted to buy freehold but for the life of me can’t find anywhere in a convenient location that fits the bill. Why oh why does everywhere in London have to be leasehold?”

Crowley considered for a moment. “That’s just London for you, I’m afraid. Funny old place, but come on, Aziraphale, most of the leases can be had for a hundred years or more before you have to worry about renewing the lease. It’s the best you’re going to get around here.”

“I suppose you’re right. I’ll carry on the search, there were one or two I had in mind, but each has its flaws.” He sipped his tea, looking worried. Crowley looked thoughtful.

* * *

A few days later there was a knock at Aziraphale’s modest door in Belgravia. When he answered it, a rather excited Crowley stood there, hopping from foot to foot. “Come on, Angel, got something to show you.” Aziraphale was rather surprised by the unexpected visit and hesitated.

“But I…”

“Nonsense, Aziraphale, get your coat, this is important, come on.” He waved toward a waiting hansom cab on the street behind him. Aziraphale fumbled for his coat and Crowley impatiently grabbed his arm and marched him out of the house, grinning widely, bundling him into the cab.

As the horse set off at a brisk trot, Aziraphale shrugged his other arm into his coat and scowled at the demon. “Really, Crowley, is there any call for all this?” He straightened his clothing in a huff, before becoming slightly flustered by his growing awareness of their closeness to each other on the narrow seat of the cab, Crowley’s warm thigh pressing against his. He closed his mouth again before his voice betrayed his sudden flush of emotion.

Crowley wriggled happily. “You’ll like it, at least I think you’ll like it. I hope you like it” he licked his lips nervously, as if having second thoughts. “Just take a look, ok? Promise me you’ll consider it?”

“Consider what, Crowley?”

“You’ll see.”

A little while later the cabbie reined in the horse by a crossroads in Soho, Crowley leapt out of the cab, handed the fare up to the cabbie, then took Aziraphale’s hand to help him down from the footplate. As the cab trotted off, he spread his arms wide, indicating an empty shop on the corner, with a faded sign above the door reading. “J. Fuller & sons, gentleman’s tailors, est. 1720” A “For sale: leasehold” sign was nailed across one shuttered window. A smartly dressed man was fumbling with a key in the door, and turned to smile at them.

“Oh, hello, Mr. Crowley, you said you wanted to take a look inside again?” Crowley nodded, and pulled Aziraphale forwards with him.

Once inside, Aziraphale paused, his breath catching in his throat. The glass cupola over the very centre of the shop floor flooded the place with light, and illuminated a beautiful circular mezzanine balcony. The place was 80 years old already but in excellent condition. He began to follow the estate agent around, noting no damp, mould or cracks in the walls. There was even a spacious basement that would make a wonderful wine cellar, and a small but serviceable apartment above the shop.

“It was built for the tailor and was on a 300 year lease, so there’s still 220 years left on it, which is more than enough for anyone, eh, guvnor?” The estate agent smiled at him. Aziraphale, in turn, smiled at Crowley, who was pacing around nervously near the doorway. He stilled his agitated movements to smile back at the angel.

“What do you think, then Aziraphale?”

“However did you find this place, Crowley? It’s perfect!”

Crowley shrugged. “Just heard about it somewhere, took a look, and thought it might suit you.”

Aziraphale beamed. “It’s wonderful, Crowley, thank you for finding it.” He turned to the estate agent. “Shall we return to your offices to take care of the paperwork then? I intend to buy it this instant!” The estate agent was surprised but smiled warmly.

“Of course, sir.”

* * *

Soho, 2020.

Aziraphale was beside himself. Crowley could see that something was upsetting him. He lounged on the sofa and watched the angel wringing his hands together with worry at his desk. “What’s the matter, Aziraphale? You’ve barely touched your cocoa, or the pain au chocolats I brought you.”

Aziraphale bit his lip in worry. “The lease is up on the shop this year, I completely lost track and forgot, but then the estate agent sent a letter to remind me. Land is so valuable here that of course any sensible trust fund that might own this place would be foolish not to re-sell at a higher price for redevelopment, probably knock it down and build a high rise on the plot to maximise what they can get out of it. I haven’t a chance and I simply don’t know what to do.”

Crowley stilled, and appeared to be thinking. Most property in London tended to be owned by organisations representing old corporations, wealthy dynasties, royalty and others, managed via trust funds and letting agencies, with several levels of remove between the person who technically owned any plot of land, and whoever ultimately occupied it. Few people would ever find out who actually owned their property.

Crowley considered his options carefully, sipping at his coffee, and glancing at the worried angel over the rim of his cup thoughtfully. “Try not to worry about it, Aziraphale, let me think about it, ok? You’ll be ok, one way or another.”

Aziraphale sniffed, he’d become weepy. “I wish I had your confidence, Crowley.” Crowley gave him a comforting smile, and carried on thinking about how he was going to deal with this.

* * *

Crowley ambled home, hands barely in the pockets of his overly tight black jeans, lost in a world of his own, thinking things over. He knew that Aziraphale and his bookshop would be ok regardless, the issue he had was how he was going to approach this problem, as several options lay open to him. He needed to decide what he wanted the outcome to be, however, because depending on how he dealt with this, could change his relationship with Aziraphale.

He could tell him simply that the issue was sorted, let the Angel think that he’d undertaken some illegal, immoral or questionable demonic bribery, temptation or threat to force the leaseholder to extend the lease for another 999 years or something, but then Aziraphale would be upset, because he hated Crowley doing things that way. He didn’t want the angel to think badly of him, and knew he’d not accept anything he thought had been achieved through such means. So that was out.

But the other options would leave him nothing to hide behind, and might be rather overwhelming for Aziraphale to accept, especially as it would reveal a secret that Crowley had been keeping from him for some time. It would also force Crowley’s own feelings out into the open, as well as exposing how long he’d had them. Crowley wasn’t sure he was ready to face that conversation yet or not, but he desperately wanted to, and if this wasn’t the push he needed to bite the bullet and finally say something, then he didn’t know what was.

He arrived at his home, stared up at the elegantly designed modern apartment block and spared himself a small grin. Stuff it. He was going to do it. Instead of going in, he wandered over to the parked Bentley, got in, and headed off to see his solicitor.

* * *

Crowley pulled up outside the bookshop, and Aziraphale came out after a moment. He’d called ahead to tell the angel to be ready to come out with him somewhere. He didn’t want to go to anywhere as public as a restaurant, so instead had opted for a simple picnic. Not in a public park or anywhere like that, he’d feel too exposed. Instead he headed out of London and into the countryside of the Chiltern Hills. Somewhere tranquil and quiet. He’d packed a hamper with the finest that Harrods and Fortnum & Mason could sell, and even packed a black and red tartan picnic blanket in deference to the angel’s tastes.

They parked up in a layby and Crowley led the way past a little wooded copse to a beautiful hillside view over the surrounding countryside, where he spread out the picnic blanket and invited Aziraphale to take a seat. The angel was subdued and confused, but seemed happy to see where all this was leading. Crowley unpacked the hamper, and noticed that Aziraphale raised a questioning eyebrow when he spotted the bottle of champagne in there.

Crowley avoided eye contact and cursed inwardly, his nerves making him too hot, sweaty and shaky. His stomach wasn’t just full of butterflies, but probably an entire entomologist’s collection of creepy crawlies fluttering and crawling their way around inside. _Was the champagne too much? Too presumptuous? Was he scaring Aziraphale off? Why was he such an impulsive idiot? What if Aziraphale didn’t want this? Oh fuck he’d gone over the top, he’d ruined it already oh…_

Aziraphale’s hand landed gently on his, and he noticed that his own hand was shaking. “Crowley, what’s all this about?” the angel asked gently, seeing the demon’s nerves overflowing. The champagne did, indeed, raise questions, and Aziraphale was becoming a bag of nerves himself and the possible implications. He struggled to keep his voice level.

Crowley was still avoiding his gaze, and appeared to be having some kind of internal tussle. His free hand came up to rest against the front of his own jacket nervously, then dropped, then came back up again as if undecided. Finally, he dipped it into the inner pocket and drew out a thick envelope.

“Aziraphale” he began, finally raising his face to meet the angel’s. “You don’t have to worry about the bookshop.” He handed the envelope over and sat back, turning his head away again.

Aziraphale took the envelope, addressed to Mr. A.Z. Fell, and opened it cautiously. He stared at what was contained within, brows knitted in confusion, until after a few pages, his eyebrows shot skywards in surprise.

“Its… _MINE_?” he gasped in shock.

Crowley nodded, biting his lips.

“But how, Crowley? Did you do something awful?”

Crowley shook his head vehemently. “Of course not, Angel. I know you’d never want anything like that. It’s all legitimate, all above board. It belongs to you now, forever. You’re the freeholder, no one can ever take it away from you. There’s a receipt for the sale in there and everything…” he trailed off and bit his lip again.

Aziraphale flicked through more pages, and then dropped the lot and stared at Crowley, jaw dropped open in shock. “ _You_?”

Crowley nodded, and stared at his own knees.

Aziraphale picked up another page and scanned further.

“All this time, even, _before_ …?”

Crowley nodded again. “From new. I was the freeholder when the tailor had it. When I heard you wanted somewhere for your bookshop I knew it’d suit you. I offered the tailor to switch their location to another closer to Savile Row and they accepted immediately, it was far better for them, and it left the shop free for you. I didn’t want you knowing it was mine, so I told the letting agents to never allow you to find out. I thought you’d feel… weird… about it.” He cringed.

Aziraphale was still staring at him in amazement.

Crowley shrugged at him. “I’ve had properties around London for centuries, I’d buy plots of land, build stuff, lease them out, got more in other cities and countries too, a lot of demons do it, how else do you think I get all the money to afford stuff like I do? I had that one built 80 years before you even saw it. I’ve got others, but that one was the best fit for what you wanted. Anyway, now it’s yours. Your name on the deeds.”

“So that’s why the lease was so cheap in the first place” Aziraphale murmured. Crowley nodded again.

“For you.”

“Oh _Crowley_ …”

The demon suddenly found himself bowled over and held tight in Aziraphale’s arms, he yelped a very un-demonic yelp. Aziraphale was holding him close, smiling so hard it hurt Crowley’s heart to see.

“Crowley, please may I kiss you?” the angel whispered. Crowley’s eyes went wide behind his shades, but he found himself nodding, nonetheless. The next instant Aziraphale’s lips were on his, so soft and sweet and more than he’d ever imagined. He melted into the embrace and his body went limp in Aziraphale’s strong arms.

The angel finally broke off, breathing heavily. “Oh my darling Crowley, would it be too forward of me to ask if you might want to, perhaps… _share_ the bookshop with me?”

Crowley’s jaw dropped open wide. “ _Share_ it? You mean…?”

“Move in with me? Yes.”

Crowley stared at his angel in stunned silence. Aziraphale looked briefly worried, afraid he might have overstepped the mark, or misconstrued the entire thing, but any reservations were immediately quashed the moment that Crowley surged forward and drew the angel into his own crushing embrace and fierce kiss, quite overwhelming him.

After a little while, they broke off again, and Crowley reached for the champagne bottle. “Does that answer your question, Angel?” he grinned, and popped the cork.

**Author's Note:**

> Explanation on weirdness of London property market for non Londoners: 
> 
> Leasehold is the norm in London, a lease is different to renting. You buy the leasehold like buying a house, it’s the same cost, but after a certain time it expires or needs to be renewed. The building freehold always remains ultimate property of the freeholder. Sometimes there is also a small ground rent, usually a token amount.
> 
> Where my other half works in London, they took out a 900 year lease on an old church adjacent to their site to use as a function centre. It’s basically theirs, but the legal technicality is that it ultimately belongs to someone else, most likely the Church Of England at a guess.
> 
> (The place he works has been around for over 300 years already anyway, they have staying power.)
> 
> I live just outside the M25 and we were lucky to find a place which is a house split into 4 flats, where we each own a quarter of the freehold. So we just co-own the building as a whole with the 3 other occupants, and we share responsibility for shared bits like garden, roof, communal hallway etc.
> 
> When we had the hall redecorated the other year we all split the cost. It’s nice not having a management company to answer to, we answer to ourselves and make our own decisions on the house between us.
> 
> So yeah, London property market is weirdly different to the rest of the UK.
> 
> 100 year lease is the norm btw.


End file.
